Bio:

Jack Belmont was born to hunt. He was bred for it. He was raised for it. The notion of doing something else, of living peacefully, or closing his eyes to the darkness, has simply never occured to him. Even when he chose to rebel against the family that raised him to be a hunter, the notion of turning away from the hunt never occured to him. And it never will. Because this is what he was born to do.

Jack Daniel Belmont III never had a ‘proper’ childhood. From the time he was able to talk, he was trained. He could identify subspecies of vampires by sight and feeding patterns before he had quite got it straight that it was the cow that went moo, and the pig that went oink. He got his first gun for his fifth birthday, and was able to physically subdue most adults by the time he hit second grade. He didn’t have parents, he had drill sergeants. He didn’t have cousins, he had a unit.

It sounds inhuman, abusive even, but Jack grew up happy. He never truly knew what he was missing. Maybe the studying got a bit tedious, but the subjects were fascinating. Sure, the physical training was exhausting, even painful, but it was also exhilirating. Especially the first time he put his father on his ass in a sparring session. When he started school, and heard what the other kids lived like, it was an unpleasant shock. They were so soft. And weak. How could they stand it?

He was exposed to death, up close and personal, at the age of twelve. Even with all of his training and preparation, he should have been more scared than he was. More rattled. He and five cousins were expected to handle a quartet of fairly young black court vampires that had moved into town. Sure, there were properly trained adults the push of a button away, but they would be tens of seconds away. The kids might as well have been alone. The others were all so scared they could barely hold their guns straight. Not Jack. A few black court vamps just didn’t seem like such a threat after what he had seen. What he still saw, haunting his dreams. Jack knew terror in way these children could never conceive of.

Jack had seen the Wild Hunt. Jack had been its prey. Jack had survived, but he had been indelibly changed by the experience. And he had been marked.

And now, at the ripe old age of sixteen, he’s become a part of it. After abandoning his parents and their spectrophobic ways, he struck out on his own, wandering the country hunting creatures that preyed on humans, before finding himself in Post-Katrina New Orleans, reeking of death and decay, barely under mortal control any more. In the course of his hunting, he drew the attention of the Erlking, and ultimately managed to prove himself worthy of becoming a part of The Autumn Court. Not as one of its hunters, or soldiers, as he had expected, but as its Knight.

Exactly what this means, he has yet to discover, but one thing is certain: He should probably avoid telling his parents.

Currently the ‘proud’ ‘father’ of a litter of fae hounds: Gabriel, Leon, Sonia, Trevor, Simon, and Richter